Gods May Do What Cattle May Not
by Silent Songbird
Summary: ...In which the Y chromosome materializes, and the main cast of DxD lead much different lives.


**This is a brief character study/'what if' story focused on the major protagonists of the DxD Cast and shall not be longer than ten to fifteen chapters.**

* * *

The bell for the evening mass rang once more, for the third time, calling attention to the members of the church and reminding them to wrap up whatever activities they were currently partaking in so as to go on to begin the worship of their father.

The priests smiled in the manner of perfect tranquility, their aged brows and wrinkles seemingly having no effect whatsoever on their own fervent desires to worship the lord. In particular, the priests of this particular convent were happy that they were blessed with a Saint to call their very own.

Father Ishmael stroke his own brow, as he stared up into the heavens in wonder. Yes, they were truly lucky to have been blessed by a Saint from the Father, a young, brilliant and shining example of all the wonderful things that their religion encompassed. He was young, charitable, kind, possessed a brilliant smile and an optimistic attitude that always seemed to have resided into the minds of all those around him, and in time, Father Ishmael knew that he would be called to do the Lord's bidding, and that he would fulfill it in a manner that no one else truly could.

The Father of the Convent eventually found the target of his thoughts kneeling, complete with rosary in hand, in front of the statue of the holy virgin, and allowed the young boy to complete his prayer, before watching as the boy approached him with a respectful bow.

"F-Father Ishmael."

"Brother Asia, hard again at prayer I see."

The young boy possessed brilliant blond hair which went a set of enchanting green eyes, and on more than one occasion, the Father had listened to the confessions of certain sisters in the convent who had admitted to having lustful, immoral thoughts with their resident Saint.

Yes, he was a Saint, and that was all Father Ishmael could describe him as, having being blessed by the Almighty with the Sacred Gear Twilight Healing which allowed for the healing of any and all maladies, ranging from mild injuries and scrapes, to that of deadly toxins, venomous bites, and even genetic diseases, all of it could be cured and more with nothing but a touch, a prayer, and the hard determination born forth from this young boy.

Their Convent had only grown more and more in number thanks to his hard works, as the boy had visited numerous hospitals and health centers around the Church during his Evangelism, and in the process, cured numerous illnesses and diseases, and converted hundreds, if not outright thousands to his cause. The boy had become their beacon, and a sign that indeed the Lord was real and his works were good and merciful, and no one would fail to believe in him, not after watching a young boy with a kind smile nurse your injured child back to life after being struck by a wayward vehicle, not as you watched your comatose lover be resuscitated and then engaged you in a tearful hug, not as you witnessed bald children who had been told that they only had nothing more than a few days to live, suddenly out with their peers, laughing as they stumbled over in an attempt to kick a ball.

No, there was absolutely no way anyone could not possess faith after seeing the works of this young man blessed by the divine, blessed by the almighty to do nothing more but spread the very gospel to any and every soul.

"Is something wrong Brother Asia?"

The young boy shook his head, albeit somewhat reluctantly. "Just a nightmare Father, I have asked the Lord for Guidance."

"A nightmare?"

Certainly he could not, in good conscience, allow the boy, on whom so many lives had been saved, and so many had been converted, have any such issues.

"Yes Father, I dreamed about a devil, one that had come upon the convent, injured and weakened, and I had, in my good conscience sought to heal him."

Father Ishmael frowned. "Surely you know by now Asia that the devils are our mortal enemies. They are the incarnation of sin, and you should never try to help them."

"But Father –"

"No, I will not hear of this Asia. If you were to ever come upon a devil and heal him, it would cast you in a terrible light."

Asia seemed stilled. "…Enough that I would be branded a heretic and kicked out?"

Father Ishmael rose a brow. "No, of course not – you are a young shining beacon to our Church, and there are high hopes and expectations placed upon you. It may mar you in future, but we would never do something so severe."

He nodded, gracefully bowing to the man.

"Is there anything else you saw in this your dream Brother Asia?"

The boy seemed reluctant at first, but then he gave in. "I… I was a girl, in this dream father."

The man managed a long hearty bellow that easily drew some tint of pink into the young blond boy's cheeks.

"I too, understand the desires of the female flesh Brother Asia, but you must remember your vows, and you must stay firm in them. However, such thoughts are only a process of maturing and I would not be too surprised to find you anxiously pacing outside Sister Agatha's room at night –"

"F-Father!"

The boy looked scandalous, and it brought a bright smile to the aged priest's face.

"Enough of the merriment, come on now, we must not be late for the Mass."

Eagerly, Asia nodded. "Yes father."

* * *

Time had passed and Asia had long since forgotten about the dream he had possessed, chalking it up to an event that was too bizarre to be noticed.

He continued his works in the church, spreading his evangelism and teaching the gospel of the word to everyone he could find, and in the end, enjoying the contentment that came from it.

Then came the sudden day, in which two individuals from the Vatican had personally visited the convent, and asked for _him_. The first was a woman, with whom he could easily recognize as an exorcist, with waves of power simply rolling off her, and the second, managed to look much more reserved and curtailed than his female counterpart, but Asia could tell that he was also an exorcist.

"Are you Asia Argento?"

"Y-yes, I am."

The woman had looked over him and nodded. "My name is Griselda Quarta. The Vatican has noted your good deeds and works, and you are to hereby accompany me there to better utilize your abilities in service of the Lord."

He fought to overwhelm the sudden, outpour of different emotions, instead, he let out an enthusiastic series of nods.

"O-Of course, anything for the L-Lord! I-I will not let you down!"

* * *

The days had rolled into weeks, the weeks, into months, and the months into years.

The eighteen year old boy stared eagerly at the mirror, doing one final prayer as his rosary twinkled under the light, and he smiled at the benevolence of the almighty. The Conclave at the Sistine Chapel had been a long grueling affair, but in light of the Almighty's power, and in overwhelming favor of his gifts and Sacred Gear which had allowed him to heal and help thousands, and in the process convert hundreds of thousands more, it was only fitting, that the Father would reward him, and that he would have gotten the most votes.

The door was slowly opened, and Griselda Quarta appeared, taking a customary bow.

"Cardinal Asia, it is time."

Then, the woman's face managed to twitch into one of slight annoyance. "Though I suppose after today, I'll be calling you, 'His Holiness.'"

Asia managed to let out a small smile at his foster mother figure. "You'll always be my mother, no matter what."

She smiled. "And you, my son."

With that, he embraced her, their familial touch sending his eyes watering.

"Thank you, for everything."

With that, Asia steeled his features, as he stared at the door, and with the same smile that he had worn several years ago as he walked into the Vatican, he wore it as he began a new life, one in utter devotion to his savior, and one, that he would look back at without regrets.

For his destiny lay before him, and it was his to grab.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** **There's no official age requirement for the post of Pope. The youngest pope to be elected in Vatican history is Pope John XII, who is believed to have been 18-years-old when he ascended to the papacy in 955.**


End file.
